


Everything Is Better With Unicorns

by misura



Category: Central Intelligence (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: CIA office politics! Pottery class! Sudden realizations about your sexuality!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelsaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/gifts).



Calvin stared.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected your typical CIA agent's office to look like, really - he'd had some vague idea of, well, a desk, a computer, a desk chair. Typical office stuff.

"Sweet, eh?" Bob beamed at him. "Yours is right across the hall. And bigger."

"Yeah." Calvin felt a bit dizzy. "I mean, it's the CIA, right? All secret and stuff." What he wanted to say was: _you're one of their best agents, recently reinstated after they wrongly accused you of treason and they_ stuffed you in a closet _? and you_ let _them? what the fudge, Bob?_.

Anyone walking through this building looking for the office of Bob Stone probably wouldn't even notice the name card on the door. So that was a good thing, maybe?

Bob slapped him on the shoulder. "Man, this is going to be great! Just imagine, me and you, working together. Colleagues!"

Phil had warned him, Calvin remembered. True, Phil had been a traitor and a liar and not a nice guy at all, but still. Just because someone was a bad guy, that didn't mean they were wrong all the time.

"Um," he said. "That's a lot of pictures you've got on that wall there, Bob."

"Cool, right?" Bob winked. "I know a girl in Supplies - you want to make your own picture wall, she's your gal. I mean, just because it's a workplace, that doesn't mean it can't be fun, right? In fact, I think that it's really important to add that personal touch. Makes you feel connected. A good balance between your personal and professional life is one of the cornerstones of being a healthy and productive citizen."

"Right." Calvin told himself it wasn't so bad. Not _creepy_ or anything. Just Bob being Bob.

"Yeah," Bob said. "I kind of wanted to get a plant, but ... " He shrugged.

"No windows." Pretty much all the pictures were from high school. "Does _my_ office have windows?"

Bob chuckled. Calvin hoped that meant 'yes'. "Hey, remember that time you pretty much single-handedly won the game against the Syracuse Satyrs? Man, that was great."

Calvin tried to spot the corresponding picture. "Kind of. I mean, boy. Lots and lots of pictures. Of me."

"Well, I also got one of Twilight Sparkle over there." Bob pointed. "See? And it's signed, too."

Calvin didn't see. "Right. Unicorns, huh?"

"Can't compete with the 'corns, man," Bob said. "Well, not unless you're The Golden Jet. But hey, enough about me. Bet you're just dying to see your own place, am I right or am I right?"

"Well, you're not wrong," Calvin said.

"Right this way."

 

Calvin's office was ... nice. Spacious. Bigger than his old one. Bigger than Elliot's, probably, not that Calvin was the kind of petty guy who cared about such things.

Someone took away his laptop to 'tune it up', which to Calvin's relief turned out _not_ to mean that they'd spill beer all over it or something along those lines. He got it back right before he went home, at 16:59 sharp. Someone'd stuck a cutesy unicorn sticker on it, which was fine.

Calvin had nothing against unicorns, or people who liked them.

"So was that the best first day at a new job ever, or wasn't it?" Bob asked. Someone had put a mop and several buckets in his office. "I'm telling you, knowing you're right across the hall - it makes me feel like I could just burst with happiness." He shook his head. "Man. Me and you, you and me."

"It was okay, I guess," Calvin said. It was sort of nice to do what he was good and know that instead of helping out some fat cat client, he was serving his country. Fighting bad guys from behind his desk.

"Hey, you signed up for any classes yet?"

"Classes?" Calvin had a vague recollection of some folders in his 'welcome to the CIA' package, but they'd self-destructed five minutes after he'd gotten them, so. "Um, no, I don't think so."

"I signed up for advanced sniping, advanced infiltration, super-advanced hand-to-hand and pottery this month. Why don't you join me? We could do it together. Get in some extra practice after hours."

"Thanks, man, but I really don't think that I want to learn how to, you know, kill people and stuff. No offense, it's just not really my thing. I mean, self-defense, sure, but that's for when it's them or you, right? That's for when your life's on the line and you gotta do something."

Bob spread his hands. "All right. Fair enough. So we're on for pottery, right?"

It _sounded_ harmless. Sure, you could kill someone with a well-aimed pot. Bob had fought someone with a banana. There probably was a class for that, too. "Sure. I guess."

"My man!"

 

On the upside, the cafeteria food was kind of great. Bob said that he'd met some of the cooks when he'd taken the cooking class last year, and they were good people.

On the downside:

" _Never_?" Calvin asked. "You never ever go out for lunch?"

"When I'm out in the field, sure," Bob said. He'd taken the salad, a veggie smoothie and an orange.

"Right, right." Calvin tried to imagine life at the CIA without Bob. He realized that he had no idea how long your average field assignment would last - could be Bob would be gone for weeks. Months, even.

"Don't let your fries get cold now."

"Only - you'll tell me when that happens, right?" Calvin wasn't _worried_. He'd seen Bob in action - heck, he'd shot Bob in action.

Okay, not a good memory. After all, if Calvin could shoot Bob by accident, that sort of implied that other people could, too. Bob might even die. People did that, when they got shot. Not all the time, of course, but it was not unheard of. Calvin knew that guns were capable of killing people.

"I just did," Bob said, stealing a fry. "Yum."

"I meant to say, you'll tell me when you go out on some sort of assignment, right?" Calvin said. "It's not going to be like, one day, poof, you're gone and there's, I don't know, a broom closet where your office used to be and nobody I ask will tell me anything, because my clearance level isn't high enough or something. Fact, when I mention your name, they'll all be like: 'who?'. 'cause I've seen that movie."

"Relax, Jet." Bob gestured. It took Calvin a few moments to realize he was being encouraged to eat his fries. "We're partners, remember? Brothers for life. Boys."

"Just checking." Calvin was pretty sure that he and Bob weren't even in the same department. In fact, the first three days he'd been here, he'd kept getting e-mails from some dude named Simon who wanted to know why Calvin was never to be found behind his desk.

Calvin'd e-mailed back that, in fact, he was sitting behind his desk right now, and had been there all morning, thank you very much. The messages had stopped after that, so maybe it had been a joke.

Even at the CIA, there had to be a few 'funny guys' walking around.

"Hey, first pottery class this evening, right?" Bob said. "Are you excited? I'm excited."

 

Turned out, they were the only ones who'd signed up, which was kind of a pity.

Bob took it well. "Their loss, our gain, right?"

"Where's the instructor?" Calvin wondered if maybe the class had been cancelled and nobody'd bothered to tell him. Or maybe he wasn't in the system yet, being new and everything.

Maybe Bob's account was still blocked from that time when everyone'd thought that he'd committed treason and killed his partner and stuff. That sounded a little unlikely, but hey, this wouldn't be the first organization where the IT department wasn't talking to any of the other parts of the organization.

Bob scoffed. "Who needs an instructor? We can improvise! It'll be fun."

Calvin was pretty sure _he_ needed an instructor. He'd seen _Ghost_ exactly one time, and sure, there'd been a pottery scene in it, but that was as far as his pottery knowledge went.

"Bob, I'm really not sure if we should just - "

"Sure you're sure," Bob said. "You saw the folder, right? Room J036, 1900 hours. That's here and now. C'mon, it'll be fine. The instructor shows up, they'll understand we started without them. Hey, you want some snacks? Some wine, maybe?"

Calvin stared at a table in the corner. True enough, there were snacks, a bottle of wine ... two glasses. 

Well, the instructor probably wasn't allowed to drink on the job, so that made sense. Sort of.

"Oh, why not?" 

"All right!" Bob beamed. "Let's make some pots!"

 

Calvin wasn't quite sure how he felt about pottery after, but it had only been one night, and the snacks had been good, and he supposed that it had been fun. He'd had a good time.

He hadn't quite realized that pottery involved quite so much physical contact. _Ghost_ had been sort of more realistic than he'd expected - at least in the pottery department. Then again, it wasn't as if he was the sort of guy who wasn't cool with another guy touching him.

Calvin's mama hadn't raised him to be no homophobe.

Plus, if you were into guys, Bob was kind of hot. Great, big teddy bear personality to top it off, too - the whole package, unless you were into hair, in which case maybe not so much.

Calvin wasn't really a hair guy. It was there, on people's head and stuff, and that was okay. It wasn't really a deal breaker or anything, though. He'd totally go out with someone who didn't have any hair.

He'd totally go out with someone like -

"Oh. My. God. I'm gay."

Possibly, 'in bed with Maggie' was not the right place for that particular epiphany.

"Uh, no, you're not," Maggie said. "I mean, hel-lo. Also, I'm pretty sure you left out a couple of words."

"I'm - you're - I'm - " Some instinct told Calvin that the word 'sorry' would get him smacked, possibly with a newspaper, and then sent off to the couch to contemplate his sins. "With Bob! I'm having a gay crush on Bob! This is so bad."

"Well, he's been pining after you since high school so, you know, I think you're good."

"He - " Bob had offered him a fanny pack. Bob had saved his life. Bob had also shot him and endangered his life, but it had all been for a good cause.

Bob had a wall full of pictures of Calvin (and one from Twilight Sparkle. Signed.)

"He's super-hot," Maggie said.

"Er, thanks?" Calvin said. "I mean, that doesn't hurt my feelings or anything. At all."

"Just remember, I ever catch you cheating on me with another woman, I'll kill you." Maggie gave him a look that made Calvin forget that he'd signed up for naked self-defense classes last week, along with gun safety, desk yoga and dancing. "And Bob'd let me. We made a deal."

"A deal?" Calvin repeated. "Mags, we're _married_! That's not 'making a deal'. That's making a serious, life-long commitment. To cherish and protect. Exclusively!"

Maggie let him work things out for himself. She was good like that. There was a reason she'd made partner at her firm.

"You and Bob? You made a deal with _Bob_? Bob made a deal with _you_?"

"Yes. See? He's a smart guy. He gets it." Maggie's tone cast some serious aspersions on Calvin's ability to 'get it'.

"But - "

She smacked him with a pillow. "Oh, go sleep on the couch."

 

"Bob. You got a minute?"

Calvin had spent a long, cold and lonely night thinking about this. He was not too proud to admit when he'd made a mistake, or when he'd missed something that should have been obvious.

Bob unfolded himself enough to be able to look at him. "Sure thing, Jet."

It took Bob another couple of minutes to get clear of his desk. Calvin tried not to feel guilty about that. It was kind of Bob's fault, too, really. As he'd told Calvin himself: Bob was a hugger.

Not a talker. Not a 'hey, Calvin, let me tell you about this obvious crush I have on you'.

A hugger.

"What's up?" Bob asked, standing tall at last. "And before you say anything, let me stop you right there. I talked to Maggie, and she's already agreed to forgive you. She opened with you doing the dishes for a whole month, but we finally settled on two. I mean, can't make it fairer than that, right?"

"I don't mind dishes," Calvin said. "Um. What did you and she talk about, exactly?"

Bob shook his head. "Not important. C'mon, big guy, this is about you. What's on your mind?"

"I - " Bob'd taken his clothes off at their high school reunion. Compared to that, this was peanuts. "I like you, Bob. I really do."

Bob beamed. "Thanks, Jet. It means a lot to hear that. See, most people, they don't say those kinds of things. They keep it all inside. And I think that's just plain wrong. I think more people should be like you. Honest. Open. Telling it like it is."

"I think we should go on a date. And have sex."

Bob blinked. Calvin felt like some gaping abyss had opened right in front of his feet. He'd misunderstood something Maggie had said, or Maggie had misunderstood something Bob had said, and now everything would be awkward.

"Er," he said. "If you want to."

"Of course I want to," Bob said. He still looked a bit conflicted. "It's just - I don't want you to feel pressured, all right? I respect you as a person, Jet. You're not simply a sexual object to me, some sort of trophy. You're you, and even if my dick never ends up in any part of you, you're still always going to be in my heart."

"That's uh, that's really sweet." Calvin held out his arms. "How about a hug, huh?"

"I should warn you, that's not a firearm in my pants," Bob said.

"That's okay, Bob."

"I'm just so damn happy right now."

"Know what?" Calvin said. "So am I."

"Just let me call Pam real quick to cancel that whole 'undercover as a gay couple' mission."


End file.
